Colors of the wind
by The Savvy Sleuth
Summary: The world of middle-earth sinks into a blissful peace as the remnants of Saurons influence are brought to justice. It has been long since the laughter of children was with the Eldar, for they leave to the shores of Valinor, the time of Man has come. A vow is broken and the Prince of Mirkwood rediscovers the charm of living again- post LotR. Rated for violence. R&R!
1. Prologue

Thin legs stretched wide between large tree limbs, toes reached out to curl into the soft moss that draped there in an effort to catch balance. Alas the jump had been made prematurely due to faulty counting on behalf of their companion, a short cry was given before gravity took its due course and brought the youth crashing to the boughs below.

"_Feiwen!_" Cried the fallen child, silver blond hair splayed out across the wood while a chiseled face contorted into humiliated rage. "_Feiwen why do you keep doing that!_" – The one called Feiwen appeared in a manner of moments, lips pulled taut to hole away the laughter that so desperately wanted out. "_Mayhap if you were paying attention to your landing and not our returning soldiers than you would land successfully_-" A large hand reached out for the still groaning child "- _For once_."

"_I should not have to think about my landing, it should come naturally_!" Shouted the now standing child, raking curled fingers through their hair in an effort to calm the distorted strands. "_So why is it that you do? Why not just land if it is so easy_?"

"_Because it is not easy, have you ever tried jumping there_?" An angry finger was pointed at the intertwining limbs above them, thick and heavy with thousands of years to harden them, green algae hung like lace from their sides and nearly glittered under stray patches of sunlight. Feiwen thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders "_Of course, likely in the exact spot you fell from and beyond it- I've never stumbled in my life_." A cheeky smile followed the remark and only served to anger the child further, "_Feiwen_!"

The cries could be heard all the way back to the grand halls of the elf-king, stopping the majesty in his slow trek down to the winery. He granted a small smile in response to the fading yell and continued on his way.

"_It would seem she is determined for all of the wood to hear her_," The elf-king did not stop in his descent although he did slow his pace, allowing for the party to reach his side.

"_The wood maybe not, though determined she is, that would be the seventh time she has fallen this morning_."

"_Seven times? That is ridiculous._"

The great King Thranduil smiled wide this time and conceded to a short laugh, abrupt but unusual to the ears of his son. "Ridiculous it is and yet still the truth, she is very bad on her feet." The notion of one of the Eldar being 'bad' on their feet was unheard of; it was a rare thing that an elf would be wrong of foot and thus brought the blond prince to alarm. Confusion danced in the baby blues of his eyes as suspicion eked a space into his heart, for his father to speak so casually of an impaired edhel was equally as unlikely as there being one to start with.

"_Be at ease Legolas_," Thranduil turned a wise eye upon his son, "_She is young and learning, there is nothing to be concerned with._" Legolas gave a soft snort.

"_There is concern when you defend a disabled elfling, what if she never learns_?" They had arrived below and the cool air nipped appreciatively at their clothing, erecting the sensitive hairs across their arms and necks. "_What are you doing_?" He queried as his father blatantly ignored him, the tall elf shifted lazily around the righted wine-shelves, coming to a hallway with many open doors. Legolas could not help but be amused as the elf-king peeked almost shyly into each open doorway before coming upon the one he had been searching for, a gentle gasp was pulled from smiling lips and the Prince lifted an eyebrow. "_Adar_?" He called.

"_Come here Legolas_!" Thranduil ordered before disappearing across the threshold.

The Prince gave just the slightest cock of his chin before moving forward to follow after his father, curious at the Kings childish nonchalance and annoyed at being swept aside.

* * *

**Note** – Hello and thank you for stopping by! This is just a cute story that came to me spur of the moment. Inside you will find your typical friendship/betrayal scene with a side of tragedy and some romance. Is it a Legomance? I surely hope not, but he _is_ a star character. I have a different grasp on the elves of Tolkien's world and so I would ask that if you do not like what you read, then take your issue elsewhere. Constructive Criticism is welcomed and reviews in general, please enjoy!

_Sindarin(elvish)_

'_thought_'

Westron(common tongue/english if you must)


	2. Chapter i - Yálie

"Yálie."

Dark brown eyes turned to recognize her instructor, Feiwen stood with shoulders jutted back and chest heaving in a great sigh. "_This is the fourth time today you have let your focus wander, tell me_-" The tome within his palm snapped shut, a colorful thread of cloth fluttering from between the pages as a marker, she watched this briefly as though desperate for anything else to look at. "_What ails you child_?"

It had been nearly four days since her terrible mishap among the grand oak trees and since that time master Feiwen had felt it safer to study her maths and histories in lieu of watching her struggle among the wood. Yálie was most unwilling to meet her master's eyes, knowing full well that beneath his gaze she would not be able to fortify a proper lie.

"_Nothing master Feiwen, I am at ease I assure you_," He snorted and she could not restrain the beginnings of a scowl. Always it would seem that he could see right through her, more than anything Yálie wished he would mind his own! Perhaps it is her own fault that the older ellon had come to know her so well over the years, he was her mentor after-all, the edhel charged with her care and personal instruction by the grand King himself. The last two hundred years passed easily to the forefront of her mind and Yálie picked through the memories with disdain, Feiwen was everywhere, always. It was not difficult for him to perceive the dissonance within her and for this Yálie scorned him. The opalescent blue of his eyes swam with disappointment while his expression remained blank and unreadable, forever the default of every edhel born to this world.

Except for her.

"_Not only does your mind wander but also your common sense_!" There is soft anger in his tone, defined with exasperation that he must once again correct her attention, four times. Despite her desire for him to fall off of the balcony she found it harder than usual to quell the feelings of guilt that rose with her, probing delicately at the contained fury upon her face. "_You cannot lie to me nethcugu so why do you do so? Come Yálie, let us have the truth now_." She stared at him long and hard, the sun shifting imperceptibly in she sky so that it angled just right through the trees, alighting upon the silver of her hair as though it were a halo. "_I_- " Suddenly she leapt up from her chair, knocking it back with her haste as she stepped over to the balustrade and peered over its edge.

Her tutor was clearly confused by this behavior and he came quickly to her side, his light brown hair slid across her shoulder as he leaned precariously over the edge. To her own surprise Feiwen's face exploded into a miraculous smile that she had only witnessed on rare occasions, the pale blues of his eyes seemed to house living starlight as he lifted a hand in greeting "Legolas!" he blurted excitedly, victim to a joyous craze that Yálie could not share.

One of the elves to have entered the garden stopped to look toward them, Yálie was struck with a chord of shyness and she ducked, hiding what she could of her face and body between the small slats. Master Feiwen did not share in her timidity; the edhel below them imparted a lengthy reply to her instructor, causing him to shake with open laughter that made Yálie feel so very self-conscious

The two edhil seemed content to enter conversation from their great distance and Yálie was only just brave enough to risk peeking between the slats, cold stonework pressed against her cheeks. He was handsome whoever he was, _Legolas_ Feiwen had called him, tall and broad shouldered, dressed in the royal green of the Kings family. The young maiden swallowed in confusion for she did not know this edhel and yet he wore the colors of her own house, bewildered eyes then focused upon the cause of her original outburst.

King Thranduil had taken a seat upon one of the benches joined by elegant birches, leafy shadows dappled the pale milk of his skin and Yálie held her breath. Beside him perched a woman whose beauty spoke volumes, a complexion paler than her Kings with hair a shade darker than wildfire. The elegant design of her dress announced her status while the greens and creams folded within proclaimed the house she belonged to. Yálie nearly died right then and there, her features wrought in a pain meant for those to have suffered excruciating loss. In a last minute effort to wield even an ounce of composure, Yálie turned her gaze back to Feiwen while gently prodding him in the calf. The ellon had calmed considerably with talk and took only a short moment to squint down at his student; Yálie knitted her eyebrows together whispering "_Legolas_?" so quietly that he was forced to read her lips.

She looked puzzled with the name on her tongue and it took Feiwen a few seconds to realize the reason why. He responded with a smile, a smile that seemed to promise her answers- in due time, and the elleth grunted indignantly. There was naught left to do but retreat for Feiwen had returned to whatever importance the two spoke of and there was no point in hailing the King.

He appeared to have his hands deliciously full.

Yálie moved slowly back into master Feiwen's personal study as the ellon had elected to hold their lesson on the eaves of his balcony that morning, thus leaving his quarters a good place to escape while tension mounted perilously upon slumped shoulders. Only when the lock fell into place did the elleth release the sigh riding her tongue, sliding tiredly to the earthen floor and taking vague comfort in the crumbles of dirt there. A million stories, just maybe, could perhaps explain better the apparent distress cast upon the fair-haired youth as she wallowed in a pit of her own grief, not at all willing to share those stories with anyone for the shame that would surely follow. Upon her face would misery remain until nearly an hour past, Feiwen shouldered his way through the door and stared curiously down at the girl, knowing of her predicament but wondrous that she would brood for so long a time. Two hundred years he had known this child and still she pouted when Tirith walked with the King, the elder had come to recognize the tell-tale signs of a hateful jealousy and it was this that drew worry into the lines of his face.

Four-thousand years gave him ample experience with a range of elven emotion and jealousy was not one of those easily tended and even less so forgiven. Alas, in the span of those years he had little to no time to practice these methods of healing on children, for the white shores sang their song long after their laughter had been promised to safer grounds. Yálie had no way of understanding how special she truly was and it pained Feiwen to see her so torn over the simple affections between King and daughter, albeit his adopted daughter, Tirith was as much his family as Yálie and the rift between them was great.

The retired guardsman gave a harried groan of discourse before retrieving the slumbering elleth from the floor, evening was swift in coming and the cold roots were no place for a creature of such warmth. Beneath his own sheets did he place the gangling youth, tucking the woven blankets high under under her chin and plucking stray leaves from the waves of her hair, old admired young as Feiwen took up sentry in the chair beside his bed, often occupied by a particular friend, it was the next best thing while he considered the troubling news shared between he and the Prince.

Afternoon shifted then into evening and from the darkness rose Luna, showering silver-light upon the forest and her elfin stronghold, bringing sweet dreams to those weary from the day. Stars marked brilliant pin-pricks within the velvety black, like shining buttons on a great quilt of navy and noir, representing the secrets of the world as invisible fingers stretched it far across the horizon.

Hundreds of miles to the east sat a man, tall, lithe and defiant to the sleep that so persistently threatened his consciousness. Eyes the color of a spring storm peered out across the web of trees that made up the forest edge as well as the territory border, memories of horror and filth within the mellyrn were all that stood between he and utter exhaustion, a thrill down his spine had the hair on his neck standing on end. Goose bumps chased down his arms and the man dragged his gaze to them, unfamiliar with the sensation and uncomfortable with the sudden pressure at the base of his skull, a slight tingling as though he were forgetting something. Something important, something that skillfully evaded his queries as warm grey eyes were drawn then to the night sky, wary of this new development and desperate for comfort that in the past only the stars could give him. Even the darkness appeared to hold a secret from him, the twinkling fire turned to ice as the man felt the inexorable dread of dire portent.

* * *

**Note** – ugh the feels. Yes there is a plot, things will make sense with time c: _editted: I misused a word, excuse me. **Edit: I re-wrote the ending to this, you'll recognize what.**__I was unhappy with it the more I read it, it felt to hurried and you guys deserve better. I hope you enjoy the new stuff! ;D_


End file.
